


00Silva Drabble Collection

by mechanicaljewel



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Biting, Drabble Collection, Execution, F/M, Gen, Gun Kink, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Military Kink, Movie: Skyfall (2012), Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pet Names, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:24:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1535819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechanicaljewel/pseuds/mechanicaljewel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of (mostly) 00Silva-themed drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Soon

**Author's Note:**

> I have challenged myself to write at least 100 words a day and used a drabble prompt table to do so. Chapter titles are the prompts.

"Fate has crossed our paths again," Silva's voice oozed across the bedroom where he had been lying in wait. Bond drew his gun, aimed it steadily at Silva's head. "Shall we...pick up where we left off?" His gaze bore into Bond's as he smiled gently. He sank to his knees, the gun following his head. Silva inched forward on his knees, submissive but determined. "Let's make this one count, yes?" His mouth opened and he ran his tongue up the bottom of the barrel before wrapping his lips around the muzzle. He looked up expectantly, begging Bond for release.


	2. Darling

“Don't call me that."

"Why not?" Silva looked over his sunglasses at the man sitting at his yacht's bar.

"You called Sévérine that, it's...unsettling."

"Well, what should I call you?"

"James, if you must."

Silva scoffed, "Perhaps you would prefer 'Mister Bond'."

Bond smirked. "There's a certain ring to it." He breathed deep of the salty air. "Not like 'Commander Bond', but..."

Silva's pupils dilated and he sprang out from behind the bar.

"What--"

"Shut up," Silva ordered. He grabbed Bond's lapels, manoeuvring them both down on to a deck chair. " _Commander_ ," he purred. "Shut up and fuck me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy my headcanonical Navy kink of Silva’s. It will probably come up a few more times :D


	3. Name

Silva stood before the woman who had torn everything from him.

She was _hurt_. Why did he feel like that should make him happy? The very thought twisted all his insides. He raised one hand to stroke Her face.

Silva raised the other hand. The Glock came into her terrified gaze, coming to rest between her eyes.

“ _Tiago…_ ” M breathed

It was Tiago who wrenched away in shock. It was Tiago who fell to his knees with a primal scream. It was Tiago’s eyes that desperately begged her forgiveness.

Tiago placed the gun to his temple.

Tiago pulled the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not actually 00Silva, but they are nothing without their Mummy, and this scene has been festering in my head as how Skyfall should have ended for a while. (But then Bond couldn’t have been ~the hero~ in the nick of time :P)


	4. By My Side

“Don’t play dumb, James. I know about the memo.” Bond looked expressionless at Silva through his cell’s bars. He _did_ know the ultimate plan for the madman in the attic: lethal injection by two-to-one vote by Mallory, the Minister of Defence, and the PM. “It will be soon. I deserve no better.”

“No argument here.”

A brief smile flickered. “I have one final request. When it’s time, you’ll come. And—” a broad smile struggled to fight back tears. “—hold my hand, until….So I can just—pretend someone cares?”

Bond’s arms pulsed with the memory of their ‘mother’. He nodded.


	5. Friend

“I saw you up on Government Hill today, no?” the man said in a low, Spanish-accented voice, “Coming out of Mother’s office. Is she trying to kidnap you from the DIS?”

Bond chuckled. “It might have come up. I won’t insult you by asking how you knew I’m DIS. But do I want to?” he tested.

“So badly it’s radiating off you. As my potential usurper, I think I should keep you close,” the man grinned suggestively.

“Well, to start with you can buy my next drink.”

“My pleasure.” The man stuck out his hand. “Tiago.”

Bond took it. “James.”


	6. Now

Silva ended his call with the Chimera’s captain. He sighed contentedly. Bond had taken the bait. Everything was coming together so nicely. Now he could unwind.

He pulled up the yacht’s security camera feeds.

“So predictable, James…” Silva murmured as the camera above the head of Sévérine’s bed showed him dripping champagne on his-- _their_ lover’s breasts and down her torso. His tongue swept over her nipples, into her navel, and lower, and soon Sévérine shuddered and moaned. With a few keystrokes, Silva switched cameras, getting the perfect shot of Bond’s arse.

With a few more strokes, he followed Sévérine’s lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to expand this one into a full PWP so bad omg. 
> 
> I tried to have Sévérine in “Darling" as an OT3 thing, but it’s hard to fit three people into 100 words. So I tried again, reasonably successfully I think!


	7. Fragment

**Tiago Rodrigues**  (born April 13, 1968 in [Gibraltar](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gibraltar)) was a computer programmer and prodigy. In 1983 at age 15, he was slated to receive the [Grace Murray Hopper Award](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grace_Murray_Hopper_Award), but the award was rescinded when it became clear that he had likely accessed Royal Naval systems unauthorized, though nothing could be proven. He is rumored to have been recruited by [MI6](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/MI6) in 1986.[ _[citation needed](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:Citation_needed)_ ] No extant records of his activities or whereabouts [after his 18th birthday](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_people_who_disappeared_mysteriously) have been found.

_This article on a computer specialist of the United Kingdom is a[stub](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:Stub). You can help Wikipedia by [expanding it](https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=User:Lexid523/sandbox&action=edit)._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I was pretty fucking proud of this idea. Point of fact, Tiago wouldn’t have been eligible for the Hopper Award due to not being a computer professional at the time, but that’s boring. However, there was no Hopper Award issued in 1983, so you can pretend this is why! And I tend to go for the Portuguese spelling of Rodrigues for reasons, hope that doesn’t take anyone out of it.


	8. Empire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, the "writing everyday" thing didn't work out. Whatever, here are some more, however belated.

Bond mapped the ridges and grooves carved into Silva’s back with his fingers. Every scar was a battlefield; every nightmare, every scream in the darkness a ghost of one man who died countless deaths. An entire war had been concentrated onto one man, fought on his flesh. His mind infiltrated and destabilized from the inside, transforming all that once made him so valuable into a beast they claimed all the moral authority to put down. All to guarantee their “peaceful” transfer of sovereignty.

“She really did a number on you,” Bond commented.

“Mother?” Silva murmured into his pillow.

“Her too.”


	9. Bite

Bond grunted as Silva’s teeth clamped down on his nipple, trapping it between porcelain and bone. _Does he bite so hard because he can’t feel it?_ Whatever the reason, Bond couldn’t complain about not having to ask. Silva always had an innate understanding of Bond’s desires.

That was no excuse, he scolded himself, for seeking him out like this. Betraying MI6, betraying her memory for-- _oh god, that, there_. He stifled his cry as the two sensations combined and Silva rubbed him to completion.

“It’s alright,” Silva murmured, stroking Bond’s hair “I’ve got you.”

Bond sank his teeth into Silva’s neck.


	10. Fighting

“Stop it James,” A fist collided with Silva’s left cheek.

“No,” Bond replied, shaking his hand out.

Silva clicked his mouthpiece back into place with his tongue. “This isn’t making you feel better.” He pitched forward with a grunt as he took a blow to the stomach.

“Can’t hurt,” Bond commented.

“Speak for yourself,” Silva said grimly.

“Don’t care.”

"I'm not going to fight back, you know."

"Good."

But soon enough (by Silva’s measure), Bond was panting and deflated. Silva picked himself off the ground, dusted himself off, and pecked Bond on the lips. “Feel better?”

“No.”

“Told you so.”


	11. Jealous

Watching the new 007, this _Bond_ , through the resort's security cameras filled the former Agent Rodrigues with rage.

What could She possibly see in him? What made him worth protecting from his deserved fate? He put MI6 on the international pillory, yet three days later he was waltzing about the Bahamas.

 _Five months of torture for_ my _sins!_ he fumed. There was no question who Mummy’s favorite was now. That moment, Silva swore to take him from her

He zoomed in on 007’s backside as he walked away from the camera.

 _One way or another_ , he thought with furious lust.


	12. Compliment

"Nice shooting," Bond muttered, nodding at Silva's perfectly pockmarked target. He massaged his shoulder again.

With an empathetic look, Silva sidled over behind Bond and reached for the hand that grasped the Walther. Holding it tightly, he lifted it up and aimed. Bond's arm trembled. Silva tightened his grip on Bond's hand, supporting the shaking arm with his own. He reached under Bond's other arm and pressed Bond against his chest.

"It will come back," Silva murmured. "For now, I'll hold you steady. Now-- point and click."

A flash and a bang tore the paper man's heart open.


	13. Effort

“You must try harder, James,” Silva tutted as Bond grunted at his straining arms. “What would Mummy think?”

“That is the last thing I want to think about right now,” Bond growled, then flexed his fingers to get a better grip.

“Can’t even lift 200 pounds,” Silva teased wickedly, his warm breath ghosting Bond’s ear.

“You weigh far more than 200 pounds,” Bond snapped.

“Lift with your hips, not your arms, Mr. Bond.” He gasped as Bond drove up into him. He wrapped his arms tighter around Bond’s neck and his thighs squeezed Bond’s waist as he sighed, “Much better.”


	14. Animal

“I suppose I owe Q an apology for disbelieving him. Though even seeing it for myself, it still seems far-fetched,” Bond commented to Silva from outside his cell.

“You owe little Jamie an apology for calling him ‘it’,” Silva said, scratching the mostly black (with white face and chest) cat in his lap behind his ears.

“Why on Earth did they give you a cat?”

“I told them I wanted a handsome man in a tuxedo in my bed every night, and they rather misunderstood,” he replied, winking.

“He probably bites less than his namesake.”

“That’s another strike against him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by my own tuxedo kitty who always interferes with my writing time.


	15. Elusive

Silva was still out there, Bond knew. What he was up to these days was anyone’s guess, but since most people even at MI6 believed him to be well and truly dead, Bond knew better than to ask anyone to look into it.

He especially would never mention that he thought Silva might be following him.

It was one thing to look twice at anyone with that unnatural bleach blond hair. It was another thing entirely to see his face in that of seemingly random strangers. The infuriating thing was, Bond could never get a second look at those ones…


	16. Semantics

“I know how to make you want it,” Silva teased, “My hard cock in your arse…”

“Then do it,” Bond challenged.

Silva nibbled at Bond’s earlobe, then whispered…

Fifteen minutes later, Bond had Silva’s hips trapped between his thighs, while Silva’s fingers dug into Bond’s hips. Bond wanked furiously as he bore down on Silva’s cock repeatedly. Soon, he burst all over Silva’s scar-flecked abs and pecs. Silva soon followed, flooding Bond’s arse.

Silva’s entreaty still reverberated through Bond’s eardrums as he collapsed: _“Pin me down, ride my cock, and come all over my chest.”_


	17. Honour

“What were you thinking?” Bond fumed at Silva, who sat freshly-showered on the bed tending his wounds. “I had the situation under control! You could have been killed!”

“You didn’t,” Silva snapped. “And you wouldn’t care if I was.”

“No, except your skills are necessary for this job!”

“You need to survive! I owe Her that much.”

Bond sat down behind him. “She’d never…” he murmured.

“She’d still want it.”

Bond turned to Silva’s scarred back. He kissed the thin line just next to his spine.

“Don’t start anything you won’t finish, James.”

Bond pulled him down onto the bed.


End file.
